


Mrs. Faraday

by Ambika1983



Category: The Little Stranger (2018), The Little Stranger - Sarah Waters
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Class Issues, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Gothic, Haunted Houses, Historical, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience, Period-Typical Sexism, Poltergeists, Pregnancy, Sexual Coercion, Suicide Attempt, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambika1983/pseuds/Ambika1983
Summary: This is a series of vignettes that explores how I think things might have gone if Caroline had married Faraday after all.





	1. Acceptance

Caroline was going to say no. The next time she saw Faraday she would tell him that she had made a mistake, that she couldn’t marry him after all. In spite of her resolve, her pulse quickened when she heard his tread in the hall. She didn’t think he would take things easily. There would be no fearful scenes, he was far too self-contained for that, but she had no doubt that the coming conversation would be difficult. If she wasn’t careful, she might not manage to extricate herself. Faraday had quite the knack for persuasion, surprising in a man so lacking in outward charm. 

Faraday’s knock on the door was brisk and peremptory. Clearly, he expected to be admitted, and why not? She and Mother had given him the run of the house over the last few months, ever since poor Rod had been sent away. Well, that would soon come to an end. 

When Faraday opened the door, she saw that he bore a parcel. Without so much as asking her leave, he began to unwrap it. “Betty helped. We’ve been quite the secret agents, she and I,” he said, as he held the dress up to the light. Caroline was as uninterested in clothes as it was possible for a member of her sex to be, but even she could see that he had done well. The dress was admirably plain, free of frills and furbelows. It was, in fact, something that she might have chosen herself. She had often felt that Faraday didn’t know her, couldn’t really see her, but perhaps she was wrong. That didn’t change the fact that the gesture was presumptuous and ill-bred. Surely this was proof that they couldn’t make a go of it? 

If any displeasure showed on her face, Faraday didn’t seem to notice. “Something for your head and hands, of course,” he said as he pulled out gloves and a veil. He was some years older than Caroline and his grave manner usually made him seem older still, but in that moment, he seemed boyish. His face bore a tremulous smile, and that made things so much harder. If he had been remote and dour, as he so often was, Caroline would have steeled her heart and summoned up the necessary words. As it was, she remained silent as he pulled out a small velvet box and opened it. 

“It was my mother’s,” Faraday said, holding the ring out to her. Caroline couldn’t bring herself to look at the proffered ring, so her eyes fell on his hands instead. They were a gentleman’s hands, white and slender. You wouldn’t think, to look at them, that he came from peasant stock. Caroline couldn’t help but notice the slight quiver in his fingers, and that filled her with a strange pity. He was as alone in the world as she was. Might they not comfort each other? She had thought that she would go to Canada, but at that moment Canada seemed cold and barren and very far away. Even the distance to London seemed insuperable. She was so damnably tired, and the thought of making her own way in the world, as a woman without fortune or looks, made her doubly so. Wouldn’t it be easier to stay in her childhood home, with someone she knew and trusted by her side? Perhaps love, or something like it, would follow.

She didn’t answer Faraday. She simply took his hands in her own work-scarred ones and then leaned in to his embrace. He held her too close for comfort, his lips pressed against her hair. They stood like that for a few long minutes before he let her go. 

That night, when Caroline entered her bedroom, she found it subtly changed. It was as shabby as the rest of the house, but somehow it had been transformed into the sanctum of comfort and peace that she remembered as a child. “_Even Hundreds approves_,” she thought as she clambered into bed. It was a curious notion, and on any other night she may have lain awake, turning it over in her mind. She was weary though, inescapably weary, and before she knew it, she was sucked into a black, dreamless sleep.


	2. The Wedding

Rain on your wedding day is a harbinger of luck, so Caroline’s mother had said. Caroline herself was sure that this superstition was just a way for English people to console themselves for their wretched weather. As she made her way outside, narrow shafts of rain pelted her and the wind blew her veil back. Faraday emerged from the driver’s side of the car to bundle her in. Caroline supposed that it wasn’t the done thing to have the groom escort the bride to the wedding, but who else did she have? Rod was sitting in the back. He was to give her away, so Faraday had arranged a day’s leave for him. She turned and greeted him, but he didn’t seem quite himself. As for Faraday, he was even more impassive than usual. _Nerves, most likely_, Caroline thought. 

By the time they arrived at their destination, the rain had stopped and the pallid disc of the sun showed itself through the clouds. Faraday escorted her out and then opened the door for Rod. Together, they approached the modest chapel. Caroline would have been happy enough to go to the registrar’s office and get it over with, but Faraday had insisted on a church wedding. As she walked up the steps, flanked by the two men, Brenda burst through the doors and enveloped her in an embrace. She was Caroline’s bridesmaid; Faraday had insisted on that too.

“I need to borrow her for just a moment,” Brenda said to Faraday before leading her away. Brenda fussed at Caroline for a few minutes. First, she busied herself with the judicious application of lipstick and powder. Then she insisted that Caroline’s veil was askew, although Caroline herself couldn’t see what was wrong with it. After the veil was set to rights, Caroline took her place on Rod’s arm as the organ music swelled. 

The guests stood as she walked down the aisle. The pews were more than half-empty; neither she nor Faraday had a wide circle of friends. Faraday awaited her at the altar. Caroline guessed that he was as nervous as she was, but if that was the case, he was doing a splendid job of hiding it. They were alike in that way, both capable of burying their true feelings under several layers of reticence. 

Once she was by Faraday’s side, Caroline tried to master her apprehension by allowing the priest’s sonorous voice to wash over her. It didn’t work. When the time came for her to say her vows, she stumbled over Faraday’s Christian name, although she supposed she was going to have to get used to saying it. She couldn’t keep addressing him by his surname, as if he were a tradesman. She stumbled again when she arrived at the fatal word, ‘obey’. She remembered the indignation she had felt as a child over that vow. After attending her first wedding, she had gone to her mother and, with as much infant self-righteousness as she could muster, demanded to know why women were compelled to promise that. Her mother had laughed in reply. “Don’t fret, darling. It’s just something we ladies say. No woman really means it, and no decent man expects it.” Caroline now knew that her mother had been wrong about many things, and she suspected that this was one of them. Faraday was a good man; of that she had no doubt. She also had no doubt that he would expect her to adhere to her pledge. 

Faraday’s tongue didn’t trip over the requisite words as Caroline’s had. His voice was steady, and so were his hands as he slipped the ring onto her finger and lifted her veil. Both these actions were performed with an air of sober triumph, as was the kiss he bestowed on her. Caroline was expecting a timid peck, but Faraday took possession of her mouth with an insistence that left her a little shaken. In the general round of backslapping and congratulations that followed, she hoped that no one noticed her discomfiture. 

After the ceremony, the wedding party and the guests repaired back to Hundreds. Caroline took the opportunity to slip out onto the terrace with Brenda. She would have liked to walk arm-in-arm, in companionable silence, but Brenda wouldn’t allow that. “He really is quite good-looking, you know,” she said. “Although he does seem a bit of a cold fish. You know what they say, though – cold hands, warm heart.” Her words were accompanied by an affected laugh. Caroline had once told Faraday that she didn’t really like Brenda, and she was beginning to remember why. 

When she reentered the house, she saw that the men had arranged themselves on one side of the room, and the women, the other. As soon as he saw her, Rod broke away from the company and went towards her. This was something they had done since they were children – they would escape from some boring gathering and only emerge when it was time for the guests to leave. Of course, Rod’s injured leg now meant that they could no longer discreetly slip away. His foot dragged against the carpet as he passed through the doorway. Faraday followed them with his eyes. He looked somewhat put out, but he couldn’t very well forbid her, could he? 

Once they were alone, Caroline took Rod’s dear, ruined face in her hands. As a child, she had been gratified when people said that they looked alike. It was only when she was older that she realized that the same features that make a man handsome render a woman plain. 

Rod spoke first. “Are you sure this is what you wanted, Caroline?” 

Caroline laughed. “It’s a bit late for that, Roddie.” 

“It’s just that … well, he’s not a gentleman, is he? He could bash you about, or make you tie his shoelaces for him.” 

Caroline arched an eyebrow. “Rod, that’s absurd, and you know it.” 

Rod didn’t answer right away. He drummed his fingertips against his armrest. “At any rate, he’s never going to take you away from here, is he? He wouldn’t leave, even if the place was falling down around his ears.” He coughed. “Poor girl. I’ve let you down, haven’t I? I wasn’t much use as the man of the house. Well, I suppose that’s Faraday’s job now. I wish him better luck than me.” 

Caroline heard a faint rustle. When she turned, her husband was standing in the doorway. She wondered how much he had heard. With a slight, almost imperceptible motion, he beckoned her towards him. 

Caroline squeezed Rod’s hand. Then she rose and went to the new master of Hundreds Hall.


	3. The Marriage Bed

Cold hands, warm heart. Caroline had never credited Brenda with great powers of perception, but in this matter at least, she was right. Once the guests were gone and she and Faraday had retired to her bedroom, his hands were upon her almost before the door was closed. He wasn’t rough or crude, but he was demanding, and part of her wanted to push him away, as she had that time in the car. Another part of her wanted to be swept up, to meet his desire with her own. 

Caroline didn’t have much experience to draw on. There had been a few desultory gropes and fumbles during the war, nothing more. She was quaking inwardly when he led her to the bed. He was nervous too, she could see; his fingers, usually so deft, faltered when he attempted to unbutton her nightgown. “Damn it,” he muttered as he tried and failed a second time. Caroline was moved to pity, just as she had been when he presented her with his mother’s ring. She laid her hand over his, and then, in a single airy motion, she raised her nightgown over her head and flung it from her. It was a bold, wanton move, one that she would scarcely have thought herself capable of. 

Faraday looked taken aback for a moment. Caroline was afraid that she would see judgment and scorn in his eyes; she knew that he had a very well-developed sense of propriety. If anything, though, she seemed to have inflamed him still further. 

Caroline embraced Faraday as he pressed her flat against the mattress. He was painfully thin, and he felt curiously insubstantial in her arms, almost as if she was holding a ghost. There was no mistaking his corporeality though, when he eased himself into her. 

Caroline was expecting pain, but there was none. She felt stretched and full, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Nor was it of long duration. Almost as soon as Faraday began to move above her, he shuddered and buried his face in her shoulder. When he shifted himself off her, he seemed ashamed. “I promise, next time will be better,” he whispered in the dark. 

The next time wasn’t better. Nor was the third or the fourth. They had lain together as man and wife half a dozen times in total before Faraday managed to bring Caroline to pleasure. Instead of confining his caresses to her breasts, as he usually did, he directed his hand lower, to the nest of brown curls that lay at the juncture of her thighs. 

Caroline could sense what he was about. He was a doctor after all, he knew how a woman’s body worked. Caroline knew too, although well-bred young women weren’t really supposed to. One of her earliest memories was of her five-year-old self reaching into her knickers. Her normally indulgent nursemaid had pulled her hand away and slapped it. “Don’t do that, it’s dirty,” she had said. At the time, Caroline had obeyed, but that changed as she got older. As a girl, the act was fleeting and furtive, but she gradually became less abashed. When she went back to Hundreds after her stint in the Wrens, it became a nightly ritual, an indulgence. It provided her with a much-needed respite from Rod’s moods and Mother’s imperiousness. 

So, Caroline didn’t shy away from her husband’s questing hand. She parted her legs and let him stroke and pet her. She would have liked to seize his wrist and guide his fingers, but she knew he would consider that too forward. Instead, she lay still and let him find his own way. It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar, telltale tension build, and when the paroxysm broke over her, she clung to Faraday. After she had got her breath back, she turned her face towards his. “Well, that’s all right then,” she said, in a small, prim voice. Faraday laughed, a rare genuine laugh, before kissing her deeply. 

Something between them had shifted. In the day, things continued on as before – they still didn’t know each other well, and silence and awkwardness often reigned. In the night, though, their coming together was effortless. At first, Caroline didn’t think her husband’s ardor had anything to do with her. She thought it was just the sexual hunger of a man on the cusp of middle age who had been without female companionship for too long. Before long though, the fervor of his kisses and caresses told her that she was mistaken. Caroline found it flattering at first. When she was younger, her mother had tried to set her up with various young men, all scions of the local gentry. The prospective suitors had dutifully handed Caroline drinks and led her out onto the dance floor, but things had never gone further than that. Even as they paid court to her, their eyes would be fixed on a spot just over Caroline’s shoulder, as if they hoped a prettier girl would somehow materialize out of thin air. 

It was a novel experience, to be wanted so much. And yet Caroline didn’t quite like it. She felt as if she had been appropriated, taken over. Not just that. Sometimes, when her husband looked at her, there was a cold, proprietary gleam in his eye. It wasn’t the sort of gaze a man bestowed on his cherished wife. Rather, it was the way a man might look upon a prize racehorse, or a newly acquired motorcar. 

Faraday had another, still colder look in reserve, although Caroline wasn’t exposed to it until they had been married for some time. It happened after their first real quarrel. A tradesman’s bill had been left unpaid, and when Faraday remonstrated with her over it, Caroline made the mistake of raising her voice to him. When she had done the same to Rod, he would erupt, before retreating into a wounded silence. Faraday stayed quiet too, but his was the still, ominous noiselessness of a snake hidden in the grass. His pale eyes took on a reptilian cast as well, and Caroline had to look away. 

That night, she lay with her back towards him. When she felt his hand stealing along her waist, she was tempted to violently throw it off. Instead, she turned to him and whispered, “Please, not tonight.” 

For a moment, she thought that Faraday might not stop. She had thought the same thing that time in the car. She had behaved like a silly coquette that night, and if Faraday had taken advantage, well, she would have had to bear part of the blame. Now though, she was a wife, and if a wife had duties, she also had rights. 

Faraday took her face between his hands. His eyes held hers for an uncomfortably long time. If there was affection there, she couldn’t see it. He was looking at her as if she was something on a slab, laid out for his scalpel. Just as she was about to pull away, he released her. “Alright then. Sleep well, darling,” he said, before dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead. 

Caroline couldn’t relax until she heard his breathing deepen. Her own sleep was fitful, and when the pale morning light filtered into the room, she was still groggy. Faraday was gone; he left for work early in the morning. The only sign that he had been there was the impress of his body on the sheets. 

Caroline swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a groan. She had taken no more than three steps before she realized something was wrong. She felt as if she had been interfered with. _Used_. She went over to the full-length mirror and unbuttoned her nightgown. There wasn’t a mark or scratch anywhere, but her breasts and sex felt tender and raw. She placed a hand between her legs, but she was dry. She looked over to her husband’s side of the bed. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. Surely she would have remembered? 

Caroline went back over to the bed and sat down. Little by little, the night came back to her in broken fragments. She remembered her husband pulling up her nightgown. She remembered the bruising force of his kisses. She remembered his hands on her upper arms as she thrashed and fought beneath him. And she remembered, with shame, her response, a stronger response than he had ever elicited in waking life. 

Because it had been a dream, hadn’t it? Nothing but a dream. 

It was more than a week before Faraday touched her again. Caroline didn’t say no. 

She would never say no again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it isn't clear from the story itself - Faraday doesn't literally assault Caroline. When he feels thwarted, a part of his psyche breaks off, and when it does, nasty things happen.


	4. The Dog

Caroline married Faraday in the autumn. Winter, when it arrived, was not the usual decorous English affair. Caroline woke up one morning to find the world blanketed with snow. Peering through the lattice pattern that the frost had left on the window, she could almost believe she was in Canada. 

Faraday was away from the house much of the time. His colleague Granger kept to a regular schedule, but Faraday went where he was needed, no matter the hour. When Caroline thought of him, out on icy, precarious roads, she supposed she should feel some tenderness, but all she could muster up was relief. Although he was never anything but kind to her, her spirit felt lighter when he wasn’t in her presence. 

Caroline didn’t mind solitude, but she hated being cooped up in the house all day. Along with the boredom, there was the cold to contend with. The house’s heating had never been very reliable, and Caroline was sure that it had finally given out. Sometimes when she walked into a room, she would feel a draught, even though the windows were securely shut. Faraday listened attentively to her complaints. He even brought in someone to inspect the pipes, but the man declared that nothing was wrong. As a consequence, Caroline spent the winter huddled in bed, shivering beneath her coverlet. 

Spring, when it did arrive, was marked by gift-giving on Faraday’s part. One day, at the tail-end of February, Betty accosted Caroline at the foot of the stairs. “The doctor wants you upstairs, madam,” the girl said, before turning away with a knowing smirk. When Caroline entered her room, her husband was standing by the side of the bed. The mattress was strewn with new dresses, all in soft vernal shades, lavender and eggshell and primrose. When Faraday spoke, his words came out in a rush. You needed new things, so I took the liberty –

Caroline interrupted him. “I hope you didn’t use up your whole ration book on these.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She only meant to let Faraday know that he didn’t need to go out of his way for her, but she knew she sounded hard, ungracious. Faraday thought so too, judging by his reaction. He flushed right to the tips of his ears. Some women might be grateful – he began, but if he meant to say more, he bit it back. 

His second gift was more welcome. Caroline was in the parlor reading when she heard yips and barks. When she got up to go towards the noise, its source escaped from Faraday’s arms and ran to her. As the little creature pawed at her feet, Faraday spoke. “I know you’ve missed Gyp, and enough time has passed, so here’s his … well, not his replacement. A new friend, shall we say.” 

Caroline knelt down. She was glad that Faraday was astute enough to realize that she wouldn’t have wanted a facsimile of Gyp. Quite apart from her sex, the dog was different from her predecessor in every discernible way. She was toffee-coloured, with a feathery tail and huge, saucer-shaped eyes. Caroline was touched, and she didn’t hesitate to show it. She twined her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him. Faraday flushed again, but this time it was from pleasure. 

Caroline named the dog Molly. As long as Faraday wasn’t in the house, she served as Caroline’s constant companion. When she heard Faraday’s footsteps though, she would prick up her ears before scrambling off Caroline’s lap and running to him. “It seems I have a rival. Look at that, she’s positively enamored,” Caroline said once, when she saw Molly rubbing herself against Faraday’s trouser leg. 

Faraday smiled as he bent over to fondle the dog’s ears, but his eyes were sad. “At least there’s one lady in this house who’s always happy to see me.” 

Caroline was glad when the snows finally receded, but the grounds were left in a terrible state. Dead branches were strewn everywhere, and the grass was bare and patchy. The land had once been Rod’s domain, but since he was gone, its upkeep fell to her. She exited Hundreds one morning, with Molly at her heels. The work seemed insurmountable at first, but before long, she fell into a rhythm that felt almost hypnotic. It was good to be out in the fresh air, with the dog gamboling at her feet. She didn’t go back inside until thirst and fatigue drove her to it.

When she entered the kitchen, Faraday was sitting at the table. Caroline hadn’t been expecting him until late afternoon, and she started when she saw him. Faraday seemed surprised too, but not for the same reason. “What have you been doing?” he asked, as his eyes swept over her. 

Caroline knew that she looked a fright. She was wearing a pair of Rod’s old trousers, rolled up at the ankle, with a kerchief covering her hair. “Working outside. I’m sorry, should I have summoned the undergardener instead?” She hoped to disarm Faraday with gentle irony, but it didn’t work. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and measured, but there was steel behind it. 

“There’s no need for that. Before we were married, I said you weren’t to play the skivvy, and I meant it. I’ll hire someone to look after the grounds.” 

“With what money?” 

Faraday didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t speak to her again until dinner, and even then, only the barest of pleasantries were exchanged. He seemed to have thawed out by the next morning, and Caroline made it a point to send him off to work with a kiss. 

In spite of their unspoken truce, Caroline intended to go back outside. There was work to be done, and no one but her to do it. When she was dressed and ready to go, a curious thing happened. Molly materialized in front of the door. Every time Caroline tried to move past her, the dog nudged her with her nose. It was almost as if she was herding Caroline back into the house. After Molly obstructed her for the third time, Caroline made to pick her up, but she let out a low, threatening growl. It was so unexpected that Caroline almost laughed. When she tried to pick her up again, Molly bared her teeth and jerked her head forward. If Caroline hadn’t moved her hand back in time, the dog would have fastened her jaws around her wrist. 

Caroline conceded defeat. “Have it your own way, you silly creature,” she said, before retreating from the door. Molly scampered out of sight. After changing out of her gardening clothes, Caroline was going to make herself a cup of tea when she heard the scrabble of paws on the staircase. When she went up to investigate, Molly was nowhere to be found. Just as she was about to exit the room, something made her turn back. Her work clothes, which she had folded neatly and placed in the centre of the bed, were on the floor in tatters. A pungent, acrid smell hung in the air. There was no mistaking what it was. 

When Faraday arrived home, Molly emerged from her hiding place and bounded towards him as usual. As her husband lifted her into his arms, Caroline spoke without preamble. “I want that dog out of the house.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“She growled at me. She almost bit me. She tore my clothes to shreds and she … relieved herself on them.” Caroline was tempted to use a coarser word, but she knew her husband didn’t like it when women swore. 

Faraday sighed. His fingers were buried in Molly’s soft fur, and she had swiveled her head around to gaze at him adoringly. Caroline, dogs are like children. They need training. Surely– 

“No. Give her away, let her loose, drown her for all I care. I won’t have her under my roof any longer.” Caroline knew that a hysterical edge had crept into her voice, but she didn’t care. 

Faraday stood still for a moment. Caroline thought that he meant to refuse, but just as she was bracing herself for an argument, he replied. “Very well then. Have it your way.” 

He turned on his heel and carried Molly out to the car. The last Caroline saw of her was her small face nestled against her husband’s shoulder. The beseeching look in her eyes almost made her call him back, but she remained silent and let him bear her away. 

When Faraday returned, Caroline had a question for him. “Where did you take her?” 

Faraday gave a faint snort. Caroline supposed that he took this as evidence of feminine capriciousness. “Don’t worry, I didn’t do away with her, if that’s what you’re asking. I gave her to Granger. He told me that Anne wanted a dog.” 

Anne, Granger’s pretty blonde wife. Always gracious, always immaculately turned out. The sort of woman, in short, that Faraday wished her to be. Caroline didn’t understand why, but the thought wounded her. 

Faraday was as good as his word. He hired two young men from Lidcote to look after the grounds. They spent more time smoking on the terrace and flirting with Betty than actually working, but that was to be expected, considering the pittance that Faraday paid them. What wasn’t expected, or welcome, was their behavior towards her. They didn’t show her any of the deference owed to the lady of the house. Caroline didn’t expect them to doff their caps and tug their forelocks, but she didn’t like the way they looked her up and down. To escape their eyes, she spent more and more time indoors, which did nothing to assuage her loneliness. She missed Gyp more than ever. Sometimes, she could almost convince herself that she could hear his gruff bark, emanating from some neglected corner of the house. 

She was mistaken, of course. All she was hearing was the wind howling in the eaves.


	5. Betty

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Caroline wouldn’t have thought it possible for her husband to pale. They were at their solicitor’s office. When Hepton spread out the sheaf of documents for their perusal, Faraday’s milky complexion turned to marble. By the time they reached the end of the stack, he looked almost embalmed. 

Faraday may have been left shaken, but Caroline had known what was coming. Faraday was too well-mannered to say it outright, but she was sure that he thought Hundreds Hall’s state of disrepair was down to nothing more than Rod’s fecklessness. No doubt a clever and industrious man like himself could set things to rights. Caroline knew better. The house had been hemorrhaging money since her grandfather’s day. It was good that her husband had been made to face it. 

Once in the car, Faraday seemed to recover himself. “It’ll be all right. I’ll pick up some extra shifts from Granger.” Caroline knew that pouring a country doctor’s salary into Hundreds would have about as much effect as pouring a bucket of water into the ocean, but she said nothing. She waited until they were back at the house before she addressed Faraday. 

“You know, there’s no reason why I can’t work. I worked during the war.”

Caroline was sure of her husband’s reply before she even asked, but his vehemence still caught her off-guard. “Absolutely not. I won’t hear of it.”

“Well, why don’t we let Betty go then? There’s no point in paying her a salary for work that I could do myself.” 

Faraday’s second refusal was, if anything, even more unequivocal than the first. Even so, the next day Caroline cobbled together two weeks’ worth of Betty’s pay and placed it in an envelope. When she called the maid to her, she looked apprehensive, as if she feared rebuke. Caroline didn’t keep her in suspense. She handed the money over right away. “After this week, you won’t be needed any more.” As the girl looked down, Caroline continued. “Don’t think we’re unhappy with you, Betty. You’ve been very good, very brave. But it’s time for you to lead your own life, wouldn’t you agree?” 

The smile that swept over Betty’s stolid face rendered her positively pretty. “Oh, thank you, Miss Caroline … Madam, I mean.” If decorum hadn’t forbidden it, Caroline was sure Betty would have hugged her. 

Caroline hadn’t meant to keep the matter from Faraday, not exactly. She wasn’t sure how he found out. He didn’t say a word to her about it, but she overheard his voice the next day, muffled by the heavy oak door. “Mrs. Faraday misspoke. You haven’t been sacked, Betty. We couldn’t do without you.” 

Caroline couldn’t hear Betty’s response, but the girl’s sullenness over the course of the next few days told her all that she needed to know. Caroline thought it wise to keep out of her way until her mood brightened. 

One day, while Betty was bustling about downstairs, Caroline decided to air out the rooms on the upper floor. She started with her bedroom. As soon as the curtains were pulled back and the window was opened, a gust of air slammed the door shut. Caroline started in surprise. She knew there was nothing to be frightened of, but her heart fluttered in her chest, like a bird trapped in a chimney. When she went over to open the door, it didn’t yield to her touch. She frowned as she turned the knob this way and that, to no avail. Bracing herself, she pulled at the doorknob with all her might, but the door held fast. 

Caroline stood still for a moment, perplexed. Then she rapped sharply on the door, hard enough to bruise her knuckles. “Betty, come here,” she called. She hoped her voice would carry through the house. 

She strained her ears for the sounds of Betty’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Caroline didn’t know if Betty genuinely hadn’t heard her, or if she was just dawdling. Just as she raised her hand to knock again, there came two sharp raps, delivered in quick succession on the other side of the door. 

Caroline froze. When she spoke, there was a tremor in her voice that she couldn’t suppress. “Betty, is that you?” 

Two more raps, this time accompanied by a rustle and what sounded like a giggle. Caroline sprang away from the door as if scalded. She scrambled onto the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt a sudden chill, and it wasn’t because of the mild summer air that circulated through the room. 

When Betty finally arrived, after what seemed like an interminable age, the door opened easily enough. As soon as she was in the room, Caroline rounded on her. “Is this your idea of a joke, Betty?” 

The girl’s expression, which had been open and pleasant when she entered the room, became more guarded. “What do you mean, madam?” 

“The knocking. That was you, wasn’t it? Did you hold the door closed too? I know you’ve been unhappy since our … misunderstanding, but I won’t tolerate this behavior, do you hear?” Even as she spoke, Caroline knew that it wasn’t true, but the alternative was too awful to contemplate. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, _Miss Caroline_.” Betty almost spat the words at her. Anger stirred at the pit of Caroline’s stomach, and she came very close to raising her hand. To gain control of herself, she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. When she opened them again, Betty was halfway through the door. 

“Dr. Faraday will hear about this,” Caroline announced to her departing back. Dr. Faraday did hear about it, but it wasn’t from Caroline. He approached her in the evening, brow furrowed in consternation. 

“Betty said you quarreled. She thought you were going to strike her. You have to be kinder to her, Caroline, she’s just a child.” 

_All the more reason why she should be away from this place_. “The door was stuck. I thought she’d trapped me inside.” 

“Why on earth would she do that?” 

“You tell me.” 

Faraday didn’t rise to the bait. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Let’s take a look at this door, then.” 

The door swung open easily for Faraday. “The hinges might need oil, but otherwise there’s nothing wrong,” he declared, and Caroline didn’t have the will to argue. 

The next morning Betty announced that she was going to visit her father for a week. Caroline expected Faraday to demur, but he nodded and offered to drive her to the train station. Betty accepted with a smile that faded as soon as her gaze fell upon Caroline. 

Once they were gone, Caroline went back into the house and approached the nearest door. She supposed that she really ought to go back upstairs to her bedroom, but the possibility of being locked in again made her shudder. Before her courage failed her, she lifted her hand and rapped against the wood. Silence followed. Caroline began to feel foolish, but then she heard the answering knock. With trembling fingers, she pushed the door open. 

No one was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly stole the knocking and the door that closes by itself from The Haunting of Hill House.


	6. The Photograph

Faraday knew Caroline was pregnant before she did. One morning as she pushed away the toast that Betty had set in front of her, he said, “I think you’re in the family way, my dear.” 

He took her to Granger, who confirmed that Faraday was correct. On the car ride home, Caroline was left to her own thoughts. She wondered how her husband knew; it wasn’t just because he was a doctor. Then the answer dawned on her. Caroline’s courses had never been very regular, and she thought nothing of it when she was late, but her husband kept track. She remembered an occasion when he had asked her to fetch his address book for him. At the time, she hadn’t known what the circled dates had meant. Now she did. 

Once they were back at Hundreds, Faraday escorted Caroline to an armchair and all but ordered her to rest, but she couldn’t sit still. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that marriage meant babies, but she had hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“You’ll want a boy, I suppose. A son and heir.” Caroline tried to keep her tone light and neutral, but even she could hear the undercurrent of resentment in her voice. 

Faraday looked genuinely surprised. “Not at all. I would like a girl. We’ll name her Susan, after your sister.” He seemed to warm to the idea. “Susan Faraday. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

Caroline had drifted over to the table where Susan’s photograph held pride of place. After Mother’s death, she couldn’t bear to look at it. She would gladly have destroyed it, but Faraday must have smuggled it away somewhere. After they were married, he had quietly restored it to its original spot. 

Caroline picked up the photograph. Susan was the only Ayres child who had inherited their mother’s delicate, finely-boned beauty. Both she and Roderick had their father’s heavier features. “Of course. Because Suki is who you would really have liked to marry, isn’t that so?” 

When she glanced over at Faraday, the truth of what she had said was written all over his face. She had never tried to break through the walls he had built up around himself. Now she had done so inadvertently, and she didn’t like what she saw. Nor did she like the twinge of jealousy that arose, unbidden, in her own breast.

*********************************************************************

Caroline’s pregnancy was uneventful, but that didn’t stop Faraday from fussing over her. She didn’t mind at first, but after a while his attentions began to grate on her nerves. One day she rebelled. She refused the cup of tea her husband tried to press on her before declaring, “I’m not an invalid.” 

She thought Faraday would be angry, but he wasn’t. He knelt by her side and took one of her stockinged feet in his hands. “I don’t mean to be a tyrant, Caroline. It’s just that … when I was a child, my mother … well, I would notice that she’d become stouter, and my father would tell me I was going to have a little brother or sister. I never did though. She lost the baby every time. The last time killed her.” He looked down. She was on her feet twelve hours a day, then she would come home and dance attendance on my father and me. I swore that if I married, my wife would never - 

Caroline placed her hand over his. “You don’t have to say any more. It’s all right.” 

She didn’t resist after that. She even learned to take pleasure in being doted on. Why not? So much of her life had been spent taking care of others, it was only fair that it was her turn. 

Faraday’s ministrations didn’t stop at the bedroom door. Caroline never refused him, but ever since she had had that dreadful dream in which he forced himself on her, she had withdrawn mentally. Faraday seemed to sense her estrangement, and his caresses had become dry and mechanical in turn. Her gravid state, though, appeared to have awakened something in him. He gently paid court to her with his hands and his mouth, and she couldn’t help but respond. “This is called the linea nigra,” he would say, as he traced the darkened line on her expanding belly, while she lay, swollen and panting, beneath him. 

Caroline’s life had finally taken on a shape that made sense. She even began to look forward to the baby, and the odd incidents that had unsettled her didn’t reoccur. She could almost convince herself that she’d imagined them. 

That was until the dream. One night her eyelids fluttered down, and when they opened again, she was still in her bed. Faraday wasn’t beside her. Almost mechanically, as if impelled by a will of their own, her feet carried her out through the bedroom door, onto the landing. She was greeted by a blaze of light that caused her to raise her arm to her face. It was only then that she knew she was dreaming. 

When she looked to her left, a small red-haired boy was standing there. He didn’t notice her; he was staring intently at the wall, while running his hand over the wainscoting. He turned his head, but it wasn’t to look at Caroline; he was responding to the creak of a door opening on the other end of the corridor. 

A little girl stepped out. Caroline knew who she was, even though she had never met her in the flesh. It was Suki, their mother’s golden darling, the lost child to whom she and Rod could never measure up. 

“What are you doing?” Suki inquired. Her voice was friendly enough, but the boy recoiled. As he did so he locked eyes with Caroline, and at that precise moment, she woke up.

That morning, she asked her husband, in what she hoped was a casual manner, “Do you have any photographs of you as a child?” 

Faraday’s buried class resentment seemed to come to the fore. “Photographs? My parents were barely able to keep body and soul together. That’s the only picture of me that exists.” He gestured towards Susan’s photograph. 

Once he had left for work, Caroline picked up the photograph to study it. All she could make out of Faraday was a bony, black-clad shoulder. Even so, she pored over it intently, as if by a sheer act of will, she would be able to discern his features. She was so absorbed that she blocked out everything else. 

When Caroline finally looked up, the boy was standing in front of her. She blinked once, then again. He was still there. She let the photograph fall to the floor. Then she screamed.


	7. Flight

No one knew about the boy, even though his appearance had reduced Caroline to a gibbering wreck. When Betty found her, she was huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth. All the same, she had the presence of mind to say nothing. Once she was restored to herself, she chalked the disturbance up to a case of nerves, and swore Betty to secrecy. Caroline had her doubts as to whether Betty had kept her promise. That evening at dinner, her husband gave her a hard, quizzical look, but other than that, he seemed content to let the matter rest. 

For a while, Caroline lived in mortal terror that the boy would reappear. She expected to see a flash of bright hair as she rounded a corridor, or a pallid face next to her own in the mirror. It didn’t happen, but her dread didn’t abate. She had never quite believed Rod when he said that there was a thing in the house, but now she knew that he was right. The fact that it refused to show itself only made things worse. That meant that it could be anywhere. The idea that it (not it, _he_) could be hanging over her shoulder as she brushed her hair or slipped into the bath made Caroline want to crawl out of her skin. 

Her adversary was vigilant, so she would have to be quick and quiet. One day, when Faraday was at work and Betty was on an errand in town, Caroline tiptoed towards the front door. She didn’t wear a hat or coat, and she carried her shoes in her hand; she had the notion that the house possessed a malign intelligence, and it was best not to signal her intentions to it. When she got to the door, she didn’t hesitate. She flung it open and stepped outside. 

Caroline didn’t tarry on the veranda. She slipped her shoes on and set off down the path. It was a raw, blustery March day, and as Caroline walked, she was blown back, almost as if she was being forced back into the house. She wouldn’t let herself be deterred. She set her face against the wind and marched on, until Hundreds receded from view. 

****************************************************************

Muffled sounds. Darkness – surely it had been light when she set out? She was on the ground, her cheek pressed against the cool earth. When she raised her head a fraction of an inch, she was at eye level with a pair of boots. 

“It’s Mrs. Faraday. Miss Ayres that was. The doctor’s lady.” The inchoate babble resolved itself into a hearty masculine voice. The man’s companion answered him, but Caroline couldn’t make out what was said. Without preamble, she was hoisted into the man’s arms. She wanted to fight, but she couldn’t muster up the strength. Besides, the man was solidly built and smelled pleasantly of tobacco. She let her head fall against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she half-expected to find herself in a fairy tale hovel, but the room she was in, although small, was clean and neat and well-appointed. As she looked around, she realized that she must be in one of the council houses that had been built on what was once Ayres land. 

As she raised her head from the settee on which she had been placed, a woman reached out a steadying hand. “Don’t exert yourself dear. My husband’s just gone up the road to call for the doctor. He’ll be here before you know it. Silly me, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Vera Boyle. You’ve met my husband already, and my son Colin. He’s the one that brought you inside.” 

The speaker was a woman of her mother’s age, but the resemblance ended there. Caroline’s mother had been all angles and frayed elegance, while this woman was solid yet soft, like a kettle wrapped in a tea cosy. 

She spoke in a broad Warwickshire accent, as had the men outside. Caroline’s mother had never let her mix much with the local children, for fear that she would pick up their common manner of speech, but Caroline had always liked its gentle, rolling cadence, so different from her own clipped vowels and consonants. 

You could still hear an echo of Faraday’s origins in his voice, but for the most part, his enunciation was as proper as her own. Caroline wondered how he had managed this feat. She doubted that he had had money for elocution lessons. He must have modeled himself after his betters, and perhaps suffered their jeers and taunts in return. 

She shouldn’t have felt a tug of sympathy for him, not when she was running away. My husband –  she began, then stopped. What did she have to complain of, really? 

“He’ll be here soon, dear. I’ve known him since he was a boy, you know. His mother and I were in service together. I left when I got married, but she stayed on.” 

“What was he like as a child?” 

“Clever and well-behaved, though I’m sure you know that already. My own sons were tearaways.” Mrs. Boyle chuckled. “He did have some queer ways, mind you.” 

“Queer … how?” 

“Well, when he was in a temper, he wouldn’t speak for days sometimes. And his mother told me she would find scratches and burn marks in his room. He couldn’t have made them himself, they were too high up, but still … funnily enough, this all stopped when he was about ten.” 

Caroline couldn’t speak. Luckily, at that moment the door swung open and Mrs. Boyle’s husband and son entered, followed by Faraday. 

He didn’t spare a glance for her. Instead, he went directly to Mrs. Boyle and drew her aside. Caroline could only hear snatches of what he said. “Please forgive … terrible strain … her mother and brother …” 

Mrs. Boyle cut in. “Don’t worry, it was no trouble. Take her home, the poor lamb.” 

In the car, Faraday’s knuckles on the steering wheel were white. Once they were back in the house, Betty emerged with a pan full of steaming hot water. Faraday must have arranged for it beforehand. She placed the pan before Caroline and made to kneel, but Faraday waved her away. He rolled up his shirtsleeves before taking off Caroline’s shoes and stockings and placing her feet in the water. 

Caroline hoped that this act of service meant that his anger had cooled, but it hadn't. After drying her feet, Faraday rocked back on his heels to look at her. “You weren’t on the path when they found you. I had no idea where you were. What were you thinking, Caroline? Or were you thinking at all?” 

“I went for a walk. Or is that forbidden, lord and master?” 

“Without a coat? At night, in your condition?” 

“It was still light when I left.” Caroline knew that she sounded like a petulant child, and it seemed Faraday had decided to treat her like one. He rose and in one fluid motion lifted her into his arms. Caroline struggled, but her husband was stronger than he looked. He held her fast and carried her up the stairs as if she weighed nothing. 

In their bedroom, he stripped her down to her chemise and laid her upon the cool sheets. He arranged himself by her side, his arm curled across her midriff, weighing her down. Caroline wondered, not for the first time, how this interloper, this _stranger_, had gained ascendancy, over the house and over her. 

How would she ever escape?


	8. The Staircase

Caroline was being watched, and not just by the boy. She suspected that Faraday had instructed Betty to keep an eye on her. Unfortunately for him, the girl possessed neither stealth nor guile. Betty would burst in upon Caroline at the most inopportune of moments, and when queried about what she wanted, she could never come up with a handy excuse. Instead she would stand still, mouth agape like a fish, before stammering some inanity and scurrying away. 

Even with such an inadequate minder, Caroline knew that it was best to be prudent. Every morning, Faraday propped her up in bed and handed her a book. “Stay off your feet, my love. Doctor’s orders. Husband’s orders too,” he would say. Caroline didn’t disobey. Betty was no good as a spy, but she would tell tales, and it was best not to draw Faraday’s attention. Let him think she was chastened and penitent. That would give her the space she needed to think and plan. 

The trouble was, her brain didn’t seem to be working as it should. Caroline knew she was clever. Once her father had taken her aside and told her she was more intelligent than Roderick, and he had seemed proud and disappointed all at once. Of late though, her intellect, once so swift and supple, seemed to have deserted her. Even when she tried to read, the words scattered in all directions. 

Perhaps the pregnancy had rendered her slow and sluggish, or perhaps there was a darker explanation. Could Faraday have been dosing her with something to render her docile? As soon as the thought arose, Caroline pushed it away. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt the baby, to hurt _her_. That was the hardest part about this whole thing – the fact that he did love her, in his own fashion. 

Even so, she had to get away. Faraday was right – she hadn’t been thinking the last time. She had behaved as animals do when frightened, fleeing from the source of danger without any inkling of where she was going. She had to do better. If she could only get to town, she could visit Hepton and see about obtaining a divorce. It wouldn’t do to set out on foot, her prior experience had taught her that. Perhaps she could get her hands on Faraday’s car. She knew how to drive; she had learned during the war. Thankfully, Faraday didn’t know. 

She found all this plotting and scheming exhausting, so she turned to her book for respite. It was _Jane Eyre_, which Caroline had last encountered in the schoolroom. She read no more than a paragraph before setting it aside. It suddenly occurred to her that she had overlooked something. She had given so much thought to the logistics of her escape, and no thought at all to how Hepton would react if she did manage to reach him. She tried to put herself in the solicitor’s shoes. What would he do if a visibly pregnant young woman, one who had suffered a series of family tragedies over the course of a year, showed up on his doorstep? More than likely, he would send her home as the Boyles had done. 

And even if she did compel him to listen, what grounds did she have for a divorce? Desertion? Faraday would never leave her. She had tried to run away herself, and a fat lot of good it had done. Cruelty? Faraday had never raised so much as his voice to her, never mind his hand. Adultery? Caroline knew that some doctors took advantage of nurses and their female patients – Faraday’s colleague Seeley was notorious for his exploits – but her husband just wasn’t the sort. Although there was Betty … the way she looked at Faraday sometimes made Caroline wonder if something was there. Faraday was kind to the girl (kinder than Caroline was herself, she had to admit), but there was nothing improper in his behavior towards her. Betty though, given the right inducement, might be led to make a fool of herself. In doing so, she just might set Caroline free. 

Caroline immediately felt ashamed. She couldn’t ruin the girl. She supposed she could stray herself. One of the gardeners would probably leap at the chance of bedding the lady of the house, but the prospect repulsed her. She was no Lady Chatterley, and she had no business pretending that she was. 

That left madness. Caroline gave a grim smile. If anyone was mad, it was she. Perhaps Faraday was already looking into sanitariums for her. If he was, she knew that the one he chose would be modern and humane, not some dismal Victorian holdover. He had done as much for Rod, and he would do no less for her. 

She took up the book again. Without warning, the pages began to flip. Instinctively, Caroline looked towards the window, but it was shut and there was no breeze. When she looked back at the book, it had settled on a page. She vaguely recognized the passage; Jane had just asked Rochester what he would do if she was mad. She began to read, and a creeping, sick feeling came over her as she did so.

> _Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat--your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me._

Faraday was no Mr. Rochester, nor was she Jane, but here was his message, clear as day; he would never let her go. There was still one way out. Before she could lose her nerve, Caroline rose quickly and went out to the landing. She could hear Betty clattering about in the kitchen below. 

It would be a short, clean drop. She remembered Rod telling her about one of his fellow soldiers who had decided to end his life by throwing himself off a building. He had fallen badly and ended up mangled, but alive. “The chap hesitated at the crucial moment, that’s the thing,” Roddie had said. Caroline wouldn’t make the same mistake. 

She placed her hands on the staircase railing and pushed herself up. She tipped over – 

And was hauled backwards. A pair of arms was locked around her. Caroline thrashed and flailed but the boy held her fast, with more than a child’s strength. 

_But then, he wasn’t really a child, was he?_

Caroline heard a crash. Betty was at the foot of the stairs, the full tea service that she had been holding at her feet. As Betty thumped her way up the staircase, the boy let Caroline go. She sank to the floor. 

It was only then that she felt the blood seeping down her thighs.


	9. Exorcism

Caroline was in her bed. She didn’t know how she got there. She sat up, but a wave of dizziness forced her to recline again. She felt unmoored, unanchored, as if her spirit was halfway out of her body. She drove her fingernails into the meat of her hand, in a vain attempt to centre herself. 

She heard voices. She couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Faraday and Betty could have been downstairs, or they could have been just outside her door. Faraday’s voice was indistinct, but Betty’s was all too clear, sharpened as it was by the girl’s distress. 

She was leaning over the railing. I think she meant to throw herself off. But – 

“But what, Betty? Please go on. You mustn’t hold anything back.” Faraday spoke in the low, reassuring tone that he doubtless used to calm skittish patients. 

“It seemed like she was fighting with someone. But sir, there was _nobody there_.” At this, Betty dissolved into sobs.

Caroline turned onto her side and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see or hear any more. She didn’t open them even when her husband came through the door. Faraday wasn’t fooled by her feigned slumber. He planted himself by her side and took her face between his hands. 

If Faraday had shown even a hint of recrimination or anger, Caroline’s resolve would have been stiffened, but he did not. “You poor child,” he said, before pulling her head against his chest. 

A hot swell of tears spilled from Caroline’s eyes before she could stifle them. Her parents had always impressed upon her that extravagant displays of emotion were for the lower orders, not for people like them. She had not yet wept for Roderick or for her mother, but now she did so, unabashedly. She wept for Susan and for her own blighted hopes. Funnily enough, she wept for Faraday too. He rocked her as she sobbed against his clean white shirtfront. “Hush now, Caroline. Poor lamb.” 

Poor lamb. It was the same quaint, countrified endearment that Mrs. Boyle had used for her. Faraday had transformed himself into something close to a gentleman through sheer force of will, but even so, the cracks still showed through. Perhaps the thought should have alienated her from him, but instead she felt an odd sense of kinship. She had been born a lady, but she often felt herself inadequate for the position. They weren’t so different after all. 

As her weeping stilled, a voice arose at the back of Caroline’s mind. _This is what he wants. He wants you tired, sick, confused, mad._ By rights, the voice should have been as insistent as the siren that signaled the start of an air raid, but Caroline found that it was easily quelled. She ignored it, and it faded away altogether. 

****************************************************************

A gaggle of women surrounded the baby. A girl, as Faraday had wanted. She had been christened earlier that day, and now they were back at Hundreds. Roderick had stood as Susan’s godfather, of course. Caroline had chosen Vera Boyle as her godmother. That had raised eyebrows in some quarters, but the woman had been a good friend to her. 

Caroline’s bleeding had stopped almost as soon as it had begun, but nevertheless Faraday prescribed complete bed rest for her. Clearly, he thought that Betty wasn’t up to the mark as a keeper, for the day after the staircase incident, he arrived home with Mrs. Boyle in tow. “She’s to keep you company,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Not that Caroline had been inclined to argue. Looking back at the latter stages of her pregnancy, she was now convinced that the only thing that had kept her sane was Mrs. Boyle’s presence at her bedside. Her scraps of village gossip and recounting of her grandchildren’s exploits had made the hours of tedium bearable. 

Brenda and Caroline’s aunt were arguing over who the baby resembled. “I think she looks like her father,” Brenda declared, on account of the red hair that Faraday had bequeathed to Susan.

“Not at all, she’s every inch an Ayres,” Caroline’s aunt replied. 

Caroline broke in. “She doesn’t look like anyone yet. She’s too young.” 

Several pairs of eyes swiveled towards her. Caroline realized, too late, that her words were brusque and unmaternal. Mrs. Boyle swooped in to rescue her. “I think that what Mrs. Faraday means to say is that all babies look alike. Isn’t that right, dear?” 

Her guests seemed mollified, but Mrs. Boyle wasn’t so easy to fool. She had stayed on to serve as Susan’s nanny, for which Caroline was grateful. Since time out of mind, women of Caroline’s class had entrusted their children to solid, capable women like her. Caroline had thought this a cold custom at one time, but now she could see the sense and wisdom in it. 

Mrs. Boyle was astute, and she could see that Caroline had not yet bonded with the baby as she should. She assured Caroline that there was no cause for worry. “Love for little ones doesn’t always arrive at once. It takes time.” 

Caroline wasn’t so sure. Her daughter was as yet a stranger to her, and it was Faraday’s fault. 

Granger had presided over the birth. Caroline usually found him charming, but as he hovered over her, he seemed on edge. When Faraday pulled him aside, he sent a troubled glance in Caroline’s direction. 

“The scope and morphine, as we discussed, Granger.” Faraday didn’t bother to lower his voice for Caroline’s benefit. The words meant nothing to her, but they clearly meant something to Granger. 

Are you sure, old boy? Caroline might not – 

“Granger. Please.” 

When Granger approached her, his smile was so uncharacteristically strained that she almost didn’t notice the needle. When he pressed it into her flesh, she wanted to cry out in protest, but a great heaviness overtook her. When she awoke, the baby was bundled into her arms. Her colour was good and she had the full complement of fingers and toes. Caroline should have been glad, but she wasn’t. She didn’t feel like a mother. She felt like one of those Russian nesting dolls that are broken apart to reveal a smaller version of themselves. She supposed Faraday had done it to spare her pain, but she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he had robbed her of something precious. 

At least he wasn’t estranged from their daughter as she was. Quite the opposite; he was besotted. Just at that moment, he peeled himself away from the group of men with whom he had been conversing and approached them. “Apologies, ladies,” he murmured, before scooping Susan up and bearing her away. He didn’t give her back even when she started to fuss. 

“It does your heart good, seeing a man dote on a child like that,” Mrs. Boyle said. 

Caroline watched as her husband placed one of his long digits against the baby’s palm. Her little fingers closed around it. She knew it was just an instinctive reaction, but still, she was envious. She didn’t let it show though. “Quite,” she replied. 

****************************************************************

The _thing_ in the house (Caroline didn’t know what to call it – the imp, the poltergeist, the manifestation) remained dormant for a while. Caroline hoped it was gone for good. After all, hadn’t it achieved all its aims? Faraday was master of the house and she wasn’t going anywhere. It took her some time to realize that her husband’s shadow had found another target. 

Caroline first noticed something amiss when her daughter was nine months old. Susan would often stare into space, gripped by something Caroline couldn’t see. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to frighten her; she would smile and point, as if she was viewing someone she trusted. It was left to her mother to be deathly afraid. It would have been one thing if the spectre meant the child direct harm, but it seemed as if it wanted to inveigle her instead. 

Caroline knew that the evidence was too slight and ambiguous for her to act on, but before long, more direct proof presented itself. One day she came upon Faraday hanging over Susan’s cot. He was singing to her, almost under his breath. When he realized that he was being watched he straightened up and stopped immediately, his face beet-red. 

Caroline gave it no further thought, but that night, as she laid Susan down and settled into her own bed (she had temporarily moved into the nursery; Faraday’s sleep couldn’t be broken by a baby’s cries), she heard it. An old folk song, sung in a high, childish treble. 

_Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green,_  
_When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen_.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Caroline bolted from the bed and lifted Susan from her cot. She spent the night with the baby huddled in her arms. She didn’t allow herself to succumb to sleep, not while Susan needed protection. 

She knew she had to tell someone. Mrs. Boyle of course; who else would listen? Vera spared her the burden of having to speak first. She knew something was wrong right away, and no wonder – Caroline was trembling with exhaustion and the hollows under her eyes were as dark as bruises. After guiding her to a chair and setting a cup of tea before her, Mrs. Boyle stood with her hands on her hips. “Alright, Mrs. Faraday. Out with it.” 

Caroline was startled into speaking plainly. “There is … a sort of spirit in the house. My husband came here as a child and I think he left part of himself behind.”

Caroline expected Mrs. Boyle to demur, but she nodded instead. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised; country folk were known to believe in a hidden realm. At one time Caroline would have scoffed, but now she was just grateful to be heard. 

“I’ve suspected something of the like myself. Many’s the time I’ve noticed my knitting’s all been tangled.” 

Caroline let out a shaky laugh before passing her hand over her eyes. “He’s done worse things than tangling your knitting, Mrs. Boyle.” She briefly recounted everything that had happened. “And now he’s after Susan,” she concluded. “When will it end? What more could he possibly want?” 

Mrs. Boyle was silent for a few moments. When she answered, she spoke slowly and deliberately, as if she was choosing her words carefully. “Mrs. Faraday … I’ve been a mother four times over. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that children’s mischief hardly ever comes from wickedness. Most of the time they just want to be seen, even if it means they’ll be punished after.” 

Caroline stared into her china-blue eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“What I mean is … you’ve already tried running away, dear. Perhaps now is the time to face it.”

****************************************************************

The house was empty. Caroline’s intuition told her that the boy wouldn’t show himself otherwise. The hardest thing was leaving Susan alone, but she forced herself to do it. She retreated to the kitchen and waited until she heard the telltale scuffling before creeping upstairs. She had left the door to the nursery open, so she saw the boy in his old-fashioned knickerbockers while she was still on the landing. The afternoon sunlight poured into the room, turning his hair into molten gold. 

The boy was engrossed with Susan, so he didn’t notice when Caroline crossed the threshold. As he whispered to the baby while she gurgled and cooed, Caroline advanced. She was almost upon him when he whirled about. He made to flee, but Caroline put out a steadying hand. 

“It’s all right Simon. That is your name, isn’t it?” 

It was her husband’s name. The boy nodded. Caroline sank to her knees so that she was at eye level with him. One of his hands hung by his side, but the other was hidden behind his back.

“Is there something you want to show me, Simon?” 

Slowly, the boy brought his hand forward and opened his fist. A plaster acorn was nestled in his palm. 

Caroline remembered how solemn her husband had been when he recounted how he had torn it off the wall. It was almost as if he was confessing a high crime. Did her family’s misery really stem from something so insignificant? 

Caroline didn’t take the acorn from the boy. Instead she caught his sleeve and directed his hand through the bars of Susan’s cot. The boy seemed to sense what she intended, for he pressed the acorn into the baby’s hand and closed her fingers around it. When he turned back to Caroline, tears glistened on his tawny eyelashes. 

Without thinking, Caroline enveloped him in her arms. She half-expected him to be cold to the touch, but he was as warm as any living, breathing child. He hugged her back, but little by little, the pressure of his arms receded until it became evident that Caroline was clutching thin air. 

Susan had begun to howl. When Caroline turned to her, she saw that the acorn had dissolved into powder in her fist. Caroline picked her up. “Hush darling, it’ll be alright,” she soothed.

For the first time, she really believed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faraday subjected Caroline to twilight sleep, a practice in which women give birth under sedation (because he's just the sort of paternalistic mid-twentieth century man who would do that).


	10. Aftermath

_June 1954_

Caroline watched from the veranda as Susan played on the lawn. Her daughter was throwing a stick to the black Labrador puppy romping at her feet before racing after him. Caroline didn’t know where she got her indefatigable energy. Her hair, which had darkened to a glossy auburn, had escaped from its plait. Her bare brown legs pumped like pistons as she took off in pursuit of the dog. She stumbled and fell flat on her face, and was up again in a flash. The only evidence of her spill was the fresh grass stain on her pinafore. 

“A perfect hoyden,” Mrs. Boyle remarked at Caroline’s side. There wasn’t a trace of reproof in her voice. Caroline had once feared that her husband would seek to temper Susan’s high spirits, but he bandaged her cut knees and listened to her chatter without complaint. Whatever notions Simon had about ladylike deportment didn’t apply to his daughter, it seemed.

Susan motioned Caroline over with an imperious flip of her hand. Caroline’s grandmother had done the same; it was diverting to see the gestures of that fearsome old lady reproduced in miniature. When Caroline was close, she could tell by the lengthening shadows on the green sward that it was almost time to go in. Before she could tell Susan that, the child made her demand. “Mama, can you fetch my ball? It isn’t for me, it’s for Toby.” As if in support, the puppy let out a plaintive whine. 

Caroline yielded. “All right, Miss Minx. But when your father comes home, you’re to come in with him, do you hear?” 

After Susan nodded her assent, Caroline turned towards the house, leaving her in Mrs. Boyle’s custody. When she crossed the threshold, she paused for a moment. Hundreds was much changed. For almost as far back as Caroline could remember, the house had been suffused with a pervasive air of neglect. That was no longer the case, and she had her husband to thank. Simon had worried that the coming of the National Health Service would put an end to all his hopes, but the opposite had happened. He had gone into partnership with Granger and Seeley and made out well. His newfound prosperity wasn’t enough to restore Hundreds to its original splendour, but it was enough to render it safe and habitable. 

He was by far the most popular doctor of the three, a fact that seemed to puzzle him. “I can’t see why people prefer me to the two other chaps,” he remarked once. 

“Did you ever consider, Simon, that you just might be good at your job?” Caroline had replied. At one time, her husband might have bristled at being teased, but instead he coloured a little and laughed. Caroline knew that he would never be completely at ease in his own skin, but some of his old rigidity had melted away, much to her benefit. She was going to take up a job, doing the bookkeeping for the solicitor Hepton three times a week. Simon had relaxed his opinions about all sorts of things, and the prospect of married women working was one of them. 

Caroline wasn’t the only one whose fortunes had turned. Roderick was getting better. When Susan was about a year old, Simon brought him home for a visit. He had paused in the doorway, breathing deeply, as if scenting the air. Caroline looked on, half-afraid, until his face relaxed. “It’s gone,” he announced, slowly, wonderingly. “It’s really gone.” His eyes narrowed. “Caroline, you witch, what did you do?” 

Caroline had stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Not a thing, Roddie.” 

As she mounted the stairs, Caroline pondered a conversation she had recently had with her husband. “Rod will be ready to come home soon,” Simon had said. He’ll still need help, of course. We’ll have to settle him in a profession–

Caroline interrupted. “By home, do you mean Hundreds?” 

“Of course. Where else?” The offhand way in which he said it touched Caroline more than a solemn announcement would have. It meant that Simon would never begrudge her brother his place in their home. She had already started to prepare a room for him. 

The door to Susan’s bedroom was ajar, so Caroline stepped through it. The room itself was light and airy. Caroline had had it refurbished once Susan had become too big for the nursery. If Caroline’s mother was still alive, she would never have allowed it to be touched, but Caroline reasoned that it now housed a living child, and could no longer serve as a shrine for a dead one.

An eddy of wind from the open window stirred Caroline’s full skirt. Caroline had never been one to preen in front of mirrors, but she paused for a moment before Susan’s glass. Her dress, daffodil-yellow with a boat neck, was of her husband’s choosing. It wasn’t to Caroline’s taste; she preferred the more austere fashions of the war years. Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny that it suited her. Her mother would have approved. Caroline smiled a little at the thought. 

Susan’s ball was nowhere to be seen, so Caroline reached her arm under the bed and groped blindly for it. When her fingers found it and drew it back, she saw that it was coated with dust. She sighed. Betty had left to get married and Caroline hadn’t yet found a suitable replacement. Just as she was about to get to her feet, her gaze was arrested. 

It was almost tucked out of sight. A crude etching nestled between the bed and the cabinet. Two initials, S + S, enclosed in a heart. 

S + S. Simon and Susan. Caroline tried to convince herself that the scratches were old, that they dated from her sister’s time, but when she traced them with the pads of her fingers, she could tell they were fresh. 

Caroline felt sick. She rushed to the window and took great, cleansing gulps of air. As she did so, her husband’s car drew up. When he emerged from its black carapace, Susan rushed into his arms. 

That morning, Simon had taken an unusually long time in the bathroom, and when he sat down at the breakfast table, Caroline noted the change. Simon, your-

Her husband had blushed, rubbing his bare upper lip. “Ah, yes. Susan said it scratches her face when I kiss her.” 

Down on the lawn, father and daughter turned towards the upper window. Both their faces were open, unguarded. All of Simon’s defenses had fallen away, and as for Susan, she had been born without any. It would fall to Caroline to protect them. 

Caroline looked back at the engraving. She didn’t know what it signified. A promise. A threat. 

Whatever it was, she was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. Thanks for going on this creepy journey with me.


End file.
